


Let Off Some Steam

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Cisswap, F/F, F/M, Genderbending, Genderswap, Humanstuck, M/M, Rule 63, Sexswap, genderbent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 21:51:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1444162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Equius does not like going out. Nepeta and Vriska are determined to change that.</p><p>(minor mentions of abuse)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finality

Your name is Equius Zahhak. Your family was expecting you to meet the perfect man during college and get married soon after you graduated. You have finished college, you have gotten a master’s degree, and you are working toward a PhD at the age of 32. Soon, you’ll be Dr. Equius Zahhak, and you’ll be a prosthetics specialist, just like your parents. But at this age, you still have not found one man that you would even consider marrying.

Well, there was one, though not a man. Gamzee. She was a sweet, sweet girl; one whose being reminded you of the powdered sugar she sprinkled on top of her favorite desserts. She even “proposed.” But soon the two of you got into a fight – and she put a ring like scar on your neck instead of a diamond ring on your finger for simply disagreeing with her. That was the end of that, and the start of you wearing scarves everywhere you went to avoid unwanted questions.

You moved in with your current roommate Nepeta after that. He’s a sweet boy too, and you would know, considering the two of you have been best friends since the 6th grade. He’s tried to get you to go to bars and clubs to meet someone before, but they’re not your style. They’re too lewd. There, people are drunk, people have sex, and your scarf will undoubtedly be ripped off within a few minutes of arriving. No thank you.

He still tries, and he has brought his boyfriend Vriska today to help. “Come oooooooon, Equius!” Vriska says, muscular right arm around Nepeta and his prosthetic left by his side. “I’m singing tonight; I can get you in free!”

“It’s not the admission I’m concerned about, Vriska,” you state, typing away on your laptop. “I don’t enjoy sweaty, gyrating bodies, is all.”

“It’s a bar, not a club, Equius. There’s not much dancing. And you are a sweaty body,” Nepeta pouts. “And you technically gyrate when you work out. Constantly. You look fine.”

“I am simply keeping my body healthy.” You pause for a moment, unsure of what you should write next for this paper. “And I do not gyrate.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No!”

Vriska rolls his eyes. “You two can discuss whether or not Equius gyrates later. We have to get her to Alternia, right?”

“What in the name of the planet is Alternia?”

“The _bar,_ Equius! Duh.”

“Forgive me for my ignorance.”

“Whateeeeeeeever, Zahhak. We’re going even if you don’t go. And then we’ll come back, at least one of us a little tipsy, and we’ll go in the back…”

“You would not _dare_ , Mr. Serket.”

“My sheets are in the wash, babe,” Nepeta points out. “They won’t be done until we’re too drunk to put them on.”

“We’ll just use her bed, then.”

You slam a fist down on the table, successfully creating a large boom and making both Nepeta and Vriska jump in surprise. You always forget how strong you are, and you aren’t excited about the fact that the people next to you will probably complain again. You’re surprised you didn’t crack the table.

“If I go with you, will the two of you _ensure_ that I stay sober _and_ that the two of you copulate in Vriska’s bed?” You can feel yourself starting to sweat, and you are very glad that you do not have a glass in your hand right now.

“Cross my heart, Equius,” Nepeta says. “So you’ll go?”

You sigh. “Yes.”

“Yay!” the boy says, squeezing Vriska’s hand tightly and bouncing up and down on the couch. How dare he be so _kawaii._ It’s ludicrous.

“Equius! Oh my god, you should wear that scarf with the arrows on it. I love that scarf. And you are _not_ wearing a sports bra, by the way. Do you even own a push up bra? Or a regular bra? Whatever. We’re gonna get you primped, and _oh my god_ Vriska won’t this be fun???” He needs to calm down before he breaks something.

“Oh, Zahhak?” Vriska pipes in, face completely neutral. “You’re not wearing a maxi-skirt either.”

“Seconded!”

“I hate both of you with a burning, fiery passion.” You press the period key on your laptop with a note of finality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In short, a guilty pleasure fic that developed a lot of backstory and a mind of its own. (Which is usually what happens when I write.) Not related to anything else I've written. There will be smut in later chapters. 
> 
> If you guys have a better work title idea, please tell me. I dislike the one I have a lot.
> 
> Comments are welcome.


	2. Plausible

Later that night, at 8:30, you are finally dressed in what Nepeta has deemed appropriate attire for the outing. Apparently, this bar doesn’t even open until the sun goes down, and in the middle of summer that is later than normal. He didn’t even let you _sleep,_ and you have been awake since 6:30 this morning, so you are extremely exhausted right now. You need some caffeine pulsing through your veins. Soon.

You don’t understand your clothing at all. You don’t understand where the clothing came from either, because the only thing you remember buying is the black scarf patterned with blue arrows that is currently hanging about your neck. You have on about three layers of cosmetics (two and a half more than you’re used to), a pair of dark gray jeggings (essentially skinny jeans devoid of pockets, which is a tragedy), and an extremely tight black tank top. Your _hair_ is _curled._ That is simply something your hair normally refuses to do, and you are sure that in an hour it will be hanging limp, straight, and sodden with hairspray.

You thank the powers that be that the scarf you’re wearing is larger than normal, because the absolutely _obscene_ brassiere Nepeta shoved at you pushes your breasts four inches higher than they should be. At least you didn’t let the boys force you into stilettos, though that may be simply because you don’t own any. The only heels residing in your closet are “crazy business lady trying to fit in at church!” shoes. (Nepeta’s words.)

Nepeta and Vriska are dressed in much more appropriate clothing. Both are wearing non-skinny jeans: Vriska’s are regular blue jeans while Nepeta’s are the same shade of gray as your pants.  Nepeta has on a plain black t-shirt and a green jacket that falls to mid-thigh, while Vriska has equipped a dark gray short sleeve button down over a black muscle shirt.

Nepeta leads you out the front door as you adjust your scarf while Vriska chuckles behind the two of you the entire way. You’ll be driving your black Mustang with Nepeta in shotgun, because “If you drive by yourself, you’ll end up going to the gym or some other gross place like that!” Vriska will be driving a van full of band equipment. You’d almost rather be with him.

The car ride is silent except for the soft orchestral music coming from the speakers. It’s the one thing Nepeta never complains about. The front of the bar is lit up in bright, concentrated versions of lime green, purple, and yellow. “Are you sure this isn’t a seventies dance hall?” you ask suspiciously, parking in between the lines and turning off the ignition.

“I’m sure!” Nepeta chirps. “It’s a punky bar. You’ve heard Vriska’s music – they’ve been trying to get him in there for a couple months.”

“Goody,” you grumble. Vriska and his band have good music, that you won’t deny, but it’s nothing compared to “Orpheé aux Enfers.” You’re prepared to be surrounded by dozens of black clad teenagers with fake IDs, colorful feathers in their hair and donned with rubber wristbands. You will stick out like a sore thumb. You have a feeling that Nepeta and Vriska did that on purpose.

Vriska raps on your window and gestures for the two of you to follow him. You get out of the car, adjusting your bra (which is two notches too tight) and waddle toward the front door.

“My band pass is yellow, so I’m over here,” Vriska says, pointing toward the yellow lit side of the building. “Both of yours are purple, so you’re on the other side.”

“You already bought a ticket for me?” you inquire.

“Yep!” Nepeta says, grabbing your wrist and tugging you toward the entrance. “Come on!”

Vriska laughs again. “Both of us are excited we finally got you out of that apartment.”

“I go out. Quite often, actually.” You are lying through your teeth.

“Whatever. Follow your platonic soul mate.”

You do, and in a few moments the only thing you can see is neon purple. You barely comprehend Nepeta flashing gaudy purple slips of paper, but you are clear as the man he showed them to asks if you’ve had a bit too much to drink already.

“I am perfectly fine,” you say, enunciating your consonants.  All of these lights are so incredibly bright, and you never did do well with brightness. You realize that you were so caught up in seething about your clothing that you completely forgot your photochromic glasses in your car. Fiddlesticks.

“All right,” the bouncer drawls, ushering you in. “Enjoy yourselves. I hear that the band playing tonight is sick.”

“Fuck yeah they are!” Nepeta chirps. You scan the room, which is bathed in the same colors as the parking lot. You were mistaken. The place is not very crowded at all, though it might just be because not everyone has arrived yet. The people there are obviously over 21, and decently dressed. Nepeta wanders off toward Vriska, who is setting up with his band.

Jade, the bassist, is plucking strings and making sure they sound like they should. You’ve talked with him a few times. He researches nuclear physics and is just as interested in robots, artificial intelligence, and such as you are. His dark hair, even when pulled back, reaches his lower back and his circle shaped glasses are comically large. He notices you and gives a buck-toothed grin. You give a thin smile back; not because you dislike him but because that is simply how your lips are shaped.

Feferi, the drummer, has already finished assembling his set and is chatting with his current girlfriend Eridan. Feferi is nice enough, though he can be a bit condescending at times. His easily tanned arms are covered with impressive muscle from the combination of intense swimming and the constant drum playing. He’s almost as STRONG as you.

Eridan, on the other hand, is extremely cold toward everyone except for Feferi. Most people will receive icy glares if they dare to waltz into her presence. If you’re (un)lucky, like Vriska, she’ll actively rip into you every chance she gets. Luckily, Vriska is just as brutal and will rip back. She swims as well, and you’re pretty sure her and Feferi met on a neighborhood swim team years ago. Her square glasses and striped scarf engulf the majority of her face.

You know that two constantly break up and then get back together. Even though they’re currently on, you notice Feferi giving a flirty smile to the honey blonde working the bar counter. Eridan is otherwise preoccupied, making sure you notice her cold stare and the way she subtly (not) turns up her large nose. Evidence of her Greek ancestry, you note.

You look off to the side and see Vriska’s stepbrother Terezi. His preposterous red cat eye glasses stick out amongst the purple, yellow, and green as he rummages around in the pocket of his red leather jacket. He pulls something out – you notice it’s that ancient quarter he keeps with him at all times. Not necessarily a good luck charm, (that’s Vriska’s thing anyway – he carries around eight eight-sided dice with him) but more of a security blanket. It has a large scratch on the tails side.

You blink to get rid of the neon glare, but it remains in your vision. You notice Nepeta waving and trot over. “Equius!” he says, hanging off of Vriska’s good arm. “Go get a drink, dammit!”

You stick out your tongue, and he mimics you. “Fine,” you grumble, going over toward the honey blonde at the bar. You will be getting a drink, oh yes, but there is no way that it will be _alcoholic._

“What’ll it be, thweet?” the bartender lisps, leaning on one elbow. Her glasses are two toned, you notice. One lens is blue and the other is red, and if you pay close enough attention, you see that each eye is a different color as well. Heterochromia iridum. Interesting.

“Water, please.” The woman shrugs and goes off to get you a glass. You swivel around and watch the band continue setting up, testing microphones, plucking strings, and making cymbals sound like rain. Terezi cackles at a comment Nepeta has made. Eridan huffs, puffs, and glares at the barkeep. Jade chews on his lip as he carefully tunes his bass.

You receive a glass of water and notice the name tag sewn into the bespectacled woman’s apron. _SOLLUX,_ it reads, in loopy embroidery. “There ya go.”

“Thank you,” you mumble, looking at the bottom of the glass for any grain. None. You take a small sip as you turn to watch the scene in fold in front of you. More people are wandering in through both entrances as the band actually begins playing versus messing with the instruments. They start out slow, with a cover of an old Fall Out Boy song. You hum along with Terezi’s voice as you sip your water.

Nepeta eventually wanders over to sit next to you, and orders a rum and coke from Sollux. When he receives it, he sniffs and cringes. “I don’t understand why you try to drink,” you say as he reaches for sugar. “When you can’t stand the taste of alcohol and put _sugar_ in _rum and Coke_ to make it bearable.”

His only response is to roll his eyes and mix the Sweet-N-Low into the carbonated concoction. “At least I know how to cut loose every once in a while,” he says with a smile. “Come _on_ , Equius, get something with at least a little alcohol.” He thinks for a moment. “Get a Horse’s Neck, or a Trojan Horse, or at least a Mint Julep or something. Don’t they drink that at the Kentucky Derby?”

“I went to the Derby when I was 16, Nepeta. I couldn’t drink, so I don’t remember.” Lies. Mint Julep is very popular at the Derby, as is alcohol in general. You think that was the only time you’ve ever seen your parents intoxicated. That and the Christmas after you turned 24. “I’m not getting alcohol.”

He huffs and takes a sip of his drink. “Fiiiiiiiine.”

“Go swoon over your guitar playing boyfriend,” you say, playing with your straw.

He’s about to make a sarcastic remark, but instead he notices a song change and actually takes your advice. You look at Vriska as well, who has removed his over shirt in order to show off his prosthetic. You know that when looked at closely, there is a small panel above the elbow that reads “Zahhak Prosthetics, Inc.” You smile. It helps to know people in high places.

You notice that the bar is nearly full now, and you’re happy you came in early so that you could get a seat. You sip more water. You would maybe, just maybe, do this again, if nothing goes wrong. Definitely plausible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing as Equius because I can be detailed about ancestry and junk but not worry about making anyone OOC? Because that is what Equius would do. uWu
> 
> As always, comments are welcome.


	3. Anymore

An hour later, the place has filled up to the point of making you almost claustrophobic. Nepeta has wandered his way onto the dance floor with about 150 other writhing bodies. All of them, amazingly, are able to skillfully dance to the drum heavy, shredding guitar filled music currently being played. He and Vriska share goofy winks and air blown kisses, and it’s so sugary sweet that you might vomit.

Probably not, however. You know you and Gamzee were like that for a long time.

You’re on a third glass of water, and considering upgrading to a glass of Diet Coke. Sollux, the bartender, turns out to be an interesting person. She’s working her way through a Master’s program for computer programming, and she’d like to work for someone doing “ethical” hacking one day. She always snaps a lisped comment at you as she walks past, even after the bar got busy with people demanding alcohol. One man attempted to grope her, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone with that dark of a black eye on their person, nor someone escorted out of a facility that quickly.

You finally order your Diet Coke. Nepeta gives you a huge grin and a thumbs up when he sees it sitting in front of you, never faltering in his dance. Vriska has taken over the duty of singing on while Terezi downs something for his throat on the other end of the bar. His voice is smoother than Terezi’s, but he doesn’t have the range his stepbrother does.

Amazingly, the only two seats available are the ones on either side of you. You’re a little hurt – are you really that intimidating? Probably.

You pop your neck and take a deep sip of your drink. The caffeine immediately perks you up, and you turn your entire body to watch the dance floor. The writhing bodies intertwine perfectly, you muse. It’s artistic the way some of these people synchronize their moves perfectly, following each other as if they knew exactly what the other was going to do when. Most are dancing tastefully, in your opinion, though a few couples on the outskirts are grinding shamelessly.

Nepeta has even found a dance partner that doesn’t seem to mind his shameless flirting with the guitar player on stage: a short Hispanic girl that you swear you’ve seen somewhere before. Your eyes travel down to her lower legs, which have both been replaced by a mixture of stainless steel and strong plastic. Perhaps those are prosthetics you’ve designed?

Your pondering is interrupted by a body falling into the chair on your right and screeching for the bartender by name. “Sollux!” the woman squawks again as you turn your head to acknowledge her. Short, freckled, and pale, this newcomer has terrible posture and voluminous bright red curls that engulf the majority of her body to the middle of her back.

“Caffeine,” the redhead moans. “Something with caffeine.”

“What? No boothe for you, KK?” Sollux teases, smile on her face, wiping down the counter in front of you.

“Three months dry, ‘athhole,’” “KK” retorts, face twisting into a scowl. “You of all people should know that. Get me an IBC in a glass bottle. I don’t want to look like a fucking douche with soda in a _glass._ ”

You tenderly trace the rim of your soda in a glass, slightly hurt. Terezi has taken back over vocals, and the crowd is raucous as ever. Someone slams their glass down on the counter a couple seats down on your left, and the woman turns with a grimace, most likely intending to let hell loose.

Instead, her eyes focus on you and a smirk replaces her frown. “Hey there.”

Sollux snorts and trots away to refill drinks, leaving you and your glass to fend for yourself. “Hello.”

“Nice _glass_ ,” she says, popping her neck and sitting up straight. “I’m Karkat.”

“Equius,” you murmur, taking a sip. Sollux drops off Karkat’s bottle, and with a smooth motion Karkat hits the cap off on the edge of the counter. She takes a swig.

“So,” she begins, swirling the brown, minty smelling liquid in the bottle. “You here to drink your cares away in fake sugar substitute like me?”

“Coerced by my roommate and not fond of alcohol,” you respond, inspecting your melting ice cubes. “He’s dancing.”

An understanding “ah” from Karkat. She takes a smaller sip from her bottle. If you weren’t there when she ordered it, you would indeed think it was a bottle of Coors or something similar. “You’re here with your roommate and no one else then?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “I’m here with my roommate and his boyfriend. No one else, unless you count the band.”

“The _band._ ” Karkat quirks an eyebrow of her own in response. “You hang with Sazima?”

“My roommate,” you explain yet again. “My roommate dates the guitarist. We’re all together sometimes.”

“Shit, you hang with Vriska Serket?” Her eyes brighten slightly. “I went to high school with him. He’s an _asshole_. He's great. Stepbrother’s an asslicking son of a bitch though.”

You snort. “Terezi’s not all that bad.”

“Terezi needs to fucking learn how to tell a girl that he’s not interested versus flirting nonstop while dating someone else. Asshole.” She takes a sip of her IBC. “Anyway. You hang out with anyone else?”

“Jade and I talk sometimes,” you muse, and you notice how easy the smile on her face looks.

“Yeah. Jade’s a nice guy. Kind of an asshole too, but a tolerable one. More tolerable than I am.”

You have no idea how to respond to that, so you use the current song change to change the subject. “Good song. You like it?”

Karkat jerks as if you’ve stung her. “Huh?” She listens for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. They wrote this one in high school. I remember Vriska singing it the hallway all the time.”

Nepeta has wandered back over to you at the bar, and he steals a sip of your soda. “Oh my god, Karkat Vantas?” he exclaims with a chuckle when his eyes land on her. Karkat rolls her eyes and raises her middle finger, but if you look closely it appears that she’s trying much too hard to maintain her frown. They begin talking: apparently they dated in college? Nepeta never told you that.

Either way, the conversation doesn’t have much for you to add. Your eyes go back to the dance floor.

Nepeta’s amputee dance partner has ambled closer to the edges of the floor, dancing with someone who is much, much different than your roommate. While they’re similar in height, Nepeta is blonde haired, blue eyed and fair skinned. This stranger is from an Eastern country; that much you can tell. Israel? Lebanon? His hair is dark and he moves just as easily as Nepeta does. You stare longer than you mean to, almost hypnotized.

“Eq?” Nepeta queries. “You good?”

“I’m fine,” you say, tearing your eyes away from the man and his dance partner. You absentmindedly listen to Karkat and Nepeta reminisce about their college days – something about disastrous roleplay sex? This is not a conversation for your ears. You tune out, go back to look for the dancing stranger.

He’s not dancing anymore, you find. He’s at the end of the bar, laughing with Sollux while she pours him a glass of clear liquid. You notice more of him: his lips are plump, his nose is wide but not protruding, and his large eyes are even darker than his hair. His grin is wide and his teeth are impossibly straight. You self-consciously run your tongue over your own teeth – you have several crowns hiding cracks and places where half of a tooth has flat out broken off.

He takes a confident sip of his drink as you continue staring. His posture is gracefully bad – he’s leaning against the bar on his left elbow, hips towards you, with his left leg crossed over his right. You gulp and feel yourself begin to sweat. No. Oh god no.

This is exactly what you felt like when you first met Gamzee.

You rip your eyes away again and take the biggest sip of your drink you can manage. There’s no way you’ll talk to him. There’s no way he’d talk to you. You’re safe.

“Eq?” you hear in the distance. “Are you okay?” You can hear the concern in your friend’s voice.

You hear Sollux’s footsteps. “Damn, girl, you’re the only perthon I’ve ever met that can get thmathed off of Diet Coke.”

“She’s not drunk, you bitch,” Karkat says, staring at you intently.

“The only time I ever see you like this is when-” Nepeta’s eyes widen. “Shit. She’s not…?”

“No! God. No.” You take another sip. “I. I just.” Another sip. Your straw gasps for liquid. “I’m fine.”

“Maybe you should stop drinking,” a low voice says behind you. You turn around and-

God.

He’s even prettier up close.

“I don’t drink,” you murmur.

The stranger quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe a drink would make you feel a bit better, then?”

“Why don’t you buy one for her then, double A?” Sollux chirps. You feel the sudden urge to vomit and you hope you’re not actually going to. It would be a shame to sully this gorgeous man’s shoes.

Double A chuckles and Nepeta squeezes you on the shoulder. You look at him and he gives you a knowing look. You shrug.

“Karkat, wanna dance?” he says, giving a lopsided grin.

“Why the fuck not. Give me the chance to make a fucking fool of myself, and I’ll do it. Drunk off my ass or no.” She gets up and follows your roommate to the dance floor. Double A takes advantage of Karkat's newly empty seat

“Sollux, you know I don’t make a habit of buying drinks for girls I don’t know.”

“Get to know her then, athhat.” She walks away, swiping an empty glass from a girl in the lap of a much older man.

Double A chuckles again, and you repress your horse whinny laugh to a silent shaking of the shoulders. “Hello,” you whisper.

He nods. “Hey.”

“Zahhak.” Wait, first name first. “Equius.”

He crinkles his nose ( _fiddlesticks_ ). “Zahhak. I’ve heard that before.”

“Déjà vu, perhaps?” No need to bring up money and power. No need.

“Probably. I’m Aradia, Zahhak. Aradia Megido. Only Sollux calls me Double A.”

“Aradia,” you say, letting it roll off your tongue. “You can call me Equius.”

He grins, showing those perfect teeth again, and you almost fall off of your stool. “Equius, then.”

“My pleasure.”

You want to look right into those eyes again, but you look out on the dance floor instead. There’s Nepeta dancing with Karkat, who contrary to her beliefs, is holding the rhythm quite well. Feferi pounds on his drums, oblivious to the jealous stare of Eridan. Jade picks out a steady thump on his bass, slipping a wink to the girl with the prosthetics in front of him. Vriska shreds chords on his Fender and hip bumps his stepbrother.

You’re about to look back at your conversation partner when you see her by the yellow entrance.

And then you don’t feel the stool underneath you anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally meet Karkat in this chapter!! I love writing as fem!Karkat: she's the bae. (We also meet male!Aradia, who is also one of my fave swaps.)
> 
> Sazima, the name of Vriska's band, is a species of tarantula that has bright blue coloring. Gotta love references like that.
> 
> I'm hoping most of you can guess who Equius sees by the yellow entrance?? If you can't you'll definitely find out who it is in the next chapter aha
> 
> (in news unrelated to this chapter or story, I am currently rewriting "StreetRatStuck." Looking back on what I had previously written, I realized it was shit. The first two chapters are rewritten entirely, but I'll rewrite every single chapter that's been posted before I change them here on ao3. uWu)


	4. Right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: There's a small mention of what *exactly* happened to make Gamzee and Equius break up in this chapter. It's only a couple sentences, but it involves abuse (through asphyxiation). Just letting you all know!

“She just fell off,” a voice says as you come to. “I don’t…”

“Holy shit!”

“Is she okay?”

You open your eyes, and a collective sigh of relief resounds throughout the group. “Equius, holy _shit_ ,” Nepeta says, shaking. “Are you okay?”

“Ugh,” you articulate, attempting to sit up.

“’Ugh,’ she says.” Vriska is on his knees right beside Nepeta as the latter helps you upright. Despite his sarcastic comment, his eyes have some concern.

You look around at the crowd that has gathered around you. Sollux is right there with a first aid kit, and Feferi is rummaging through it, asking if you’re hurt anywhere. Both Karkat and Jade have their fingers in their mouth. Aradia looks rather concerned, as if he had something to do with you falling unconscious. You realize that, quite literally, the _entire bar_ has stopped what they are doing to come and see you.

Including Gamzee Makara.

You lean in toward Nepeta. “She’s right _there,”_ you whisper urgently, and he automatically knows who you’re talking about. His eyes widen in fear and panic.

“Equius!” Feferi yells, waving his hand in your face. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding?” You almost ask him why he’s qualified to ask you this when you remember that he is not only a lifeguard, he trains lifeguards as well. Right.

“Just sore,” you say, scrambling to get up and away. You glance toward Gamzee, who somehow has made it to the front of the crowd. She knows. She _knows_ she is supposed to be 100 yards away from you at all times. She _knows_ what pain she caused you.

And she has the audacity to flash you that big, happy grin.

Feferi keeps you on the ground. “You are not getting up right now. You could have a concussion…”

“Feferi!” Nepeta shouts. “This is about a little more than pride and a possible concussion, god _dammit!_ ”

Finally, your former lover speaks. “It’s about me, ain’t it?” she says softly, wringing her hands.

Reluctantly, you look back at her. She’s _gorgeous_ , frankly, she always was and she still is. Tall and lean, with her tan skin and old world features that make you swoon every time. Her flowing pants only emphasize how long her legs are and her tank top accentuates her bust and thin arms. You gulp, allowing Nepeta to help you stand.

“One. Hundred. Fucking. Yards,” Nepeta sneers as you use his arm for support. Your throat has closed up and you can barely breathe. You still feel like you did when you first met her, but that sweet feeling has been soured with fear. You’re terrified of her. The three jagged scratches scarring her face only increase that.

“Listen, pony,” Gamzee starts, and _oh no she did not pull that nickname out in public Jesus Christ you’re going to punch through a wall._

“That…” you start, tugging on the loop of your scarf. “That is not a name you are allowed to call me again. Ever.”

She jerks back as if she’s been stung, and Nepeta gives you a reassuring squeeze on the arm. “I want to say I’m sorry-” she starts again.

“You didn’t seem too sorry when you put that scar on my neck,” you sneer with fake malice. You hate the scar, you hate her actions, but you don’t hate Gamzee.

You could never truly hate Gamzee Makara.

It hits you, that you would take her back if there was no permanent damage on your body. If you didn’t almost die from asphyxiation that night. If she didn’t break Nepeta’s wrist after he found you half dead, heart stopped on the floor of your apartment. You’d power through fear and take her back, still in love, still loving what she made your body do.

“Leave,” you choke.

You can see anger penetrating her irises, battling the sorrow that’s filled them since you woke up. She’s trying so hard not to lose control.

You curl your hands into fists, ready if she comes toward you. “ _Leave.”_

Nepeta’s hands are in fists as well, but almost everyone else is simply confused. Vriska looks mildly angered. Karkat looks caught unaware, as if she stuck a fork in an electrical outlet and didn’t know it would shock her.

“Gamzee,” a soft voice says, and you turn to see the girl with the double leg prosthetics. Her eyes are wide, innocent as a newborn calf. “If you need to go, I can take you. We’ll both go.”

Gamzee visibly relaxes and her eyes light up. “Thanks, girl.” She takes her hand.

Nepeta is shaking. “I don’t even care who you leave with any more. I swear to _fuck,_ if your face is not out of my range of vision in the next fifteen seconds, I’m calling the police and it won’t be pretty. _Leave.”_

The girl gently tugs Gamzee away but the latter’s gaze does not leave you. You feel bile rising in your throat, burning your windpipe and making you really wish you were at home in bed with a glass of milk right now.

Soon, they’re gone, and the bar assimilates back to where it was before the ruckus. Someone slumps over the wooden counter, trying to sweet talk Sollux into giving them a free drink. She retorts that they can have it, but only if it’s poured on their hair.

Nepeta makes you sit down. Karkat reclaims her spot next to you, eyes wide in disbelief. Aradia remains standing, and with a few concerned glances and a “drink some water” the band returns to the stage. Sollux already has a glass prepared. You choke down half of it.

The people around you are silent, and this type of silence never did suit you quite right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand there we have it. Sorry for taking so long to update - Honestly, life just got in the way, and when I had time to write I had a severe case of writer's block. It took me a couple months to figure out how to end this chapter, and I'm still not entirely happy with it. But! It is here, and I hope you guys enjoyed it. uVu ~ Lynny


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